What Time Cannot Erase
by Christina Conlon
Summary: It was something she just couldn't remember.  It was something he would never forget.  Sequel to 'The Future is Calling'.
1. Story of a Girl: When You're Gone

**Welcome, one and all, to the grand opening of **_**What Time Cannot Erase**_**; the fabled sequel to **_**The Future is Calling**_**! Written, produced, and lived (sort of) by yours truly, Christina Conlon!**

***audience claps politely (save a rabid fan who is whooping and hollering in the back row)***

**Well, since I have no reviews yet, that means there are no shout-outs, which means we can get on with the story! Go us! =D**

**Please enjoy my darlingz!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the idea and Christina. All other characters you don't recognize own themselves. Go them.**

**!~!~!**

**Story of a Girl – When You're Gone**

_Christina_

The first thing I did after Spot left? Grabbed a giant tub of vanilla ice cream, sat down on the couch, turned on my favorite soap opera, and bawled my eyes out. And even if the soap was too 'mature' for me, I wasn't really paying any attention anyways; too busy crying and stuffing my face.

It seemed like a dream… no, more like a nightmare. It was extremely hard for my pea-sized brain to process the fact that he was actually _gone_. Oh sure, everything went back to normal after he left; the second he pulled the trigger, all was as it originally was. And no one but me seemed to notice. The closest anyone came to realizing what had happened was Emilee wandering around in a trance for about a month. Other than that, it was just me. No more dirty, grungy house, no more stupid Fredegar Peterson, and no more Spot.

It took me an entire week before I could actually get out of the house and go to school. I thought that maybe, if I just kept myself busy enough, the pain would kinda go away. Plus, I had run out of vanilla ice cream.

When people asked, "where is he?" I would feel my heart dying all over again.

At first I just kept walking like they weren't even there, but eventually I was able to choke out, "He went back to Brooklyn. He's kissed Mayville goodbye."

When I told this to Megan Slope, she just snorted. "Yeah, more like he kissed _you_ goodbye."

"Leave her alone!" Emilee snarled, wrapping one arm around my shoulders protectively. "He probably left so that he didn't have to see your stupid face anymore!"

This took the redhead off guard, and gave Emilee enough time to quietly lead me away.

For the next few weeks, I kept myself more than busy. I threw myself into my studies, getting mostly As and Bs in all classes but math (still a stupid D). I did a lot of housework; whether it was throwing the pinks and whites together in the laundry or burning dinner, there was always plenty for me to do around the house. My family was supportive, but they were pretty tight-mouthed about Spot as well.

Every night I would collapse on my bed, exhausted and emotionally drained. But no matter how I avoided him in the waking world, dreams plagued with visions of Spot were inevitable. Fitful, tearful nights of sleep cursed me for weeks. Until finally, I invented a fool-proof plan.

I would forget.

It may sound like a silly overreaction to the issue, but at the time, it seemed like a sensible, effective plan.

It was laughably simple; I just didn't think about him, or anything related to him, as much as possible. And when he did pop up, the thoughts were brief and negative. Slowly but surely, Spot began to fade from my life and mind. By the end of the school year, I had completely forgotten about…

Wait, who?

**!~!~!**

***cough* Sorry that it was so short, but it was the prologue, so don't kill me! Don't worry; the actual ****chapters**** will be much longer. That's a pwomise! :3**

**So, now you know Christina's side of the story. But what about Spot's…?**

**The world may never know… (Unless you review!)**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	2. Song for the Lonely: Vanilla Twilight

**Mkay then, time for chapter 2; this time, featuring SPOT! Then, after this, the ****real**** story will begin! *cackles evilly***

**Shout-outs! Wowzies, six already? 8D**

Lacey White: You're the first to review, so thanks a bunch! =D Haha, I love vanilla ice cream. =3 Thanks for reading! =)

Firefly Conlon: Ahh, my dear Newsies Sistah. So glad you enjoyed it! ;D

Eavis: Since you asked, she forgot all about Spot, and mostly about Newsies. She still knows about the Strike of 1899, New York, Brooklyn, etc., but the things have no importance in her life like they once did. I hope I cleared that up! More will be explained! =) Thankies for readin'! =D

Austra: YES! HOORAY FOR SEQUELS! 8D Haha, thanks for reading! =)

Caroline Conlon: Aw, you miss Spot too? That's so sweet! XD I'm glad you're enjoying it so much! Thanks! =)

Water vs. Fire: That happens a lot for me, too. I just finished reading the Newsies story _Five_… sniff… so-so sad! So-so twisted! So-so AMAZING! *sob*

**And now, for the second installment! =D**

**Enjoy, y'all!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the idea and Twig. Nuttin' else. :3**

**!~!~!**

**Song for the Lonely – Vanilla Twilight**

_Spot_

The first thing I did after I left? Helped lead a Strike, of course. What, you think I, Spot Conlon, would mope around, all boo-hoo and teary-eyed that my girl wasn't beside me? Ha!

No, that wasn't until later.

At first, it seemed like maybe I was getting over Christina Turtle. The Strike kept me busy, and her off my mind. It was almost like rehab or something. And my addiction was _her_.

That night, during the rally at Medda's? I had to make a choice; a choice that would shape the future for the world. At first, I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy; what if I made the wrong choice? How would the future – Christina's world – shape out to be? I averted my gaze from Jacky-boy, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. Then, a scene – a vision, if you will – from my time spent in the future came to mind.

"'_Tina, wait up!" I called, beginning to feel slightly aggravated. She froze mid-skip and slowly turned around, her face serious._

"_What is it, Spot?" She asked me. I hesitated._

"_Maybe wese could… y'know…" I trailed off. Geez, what was wrong with me? I was Spot Conlon – I didn't feel nervous! No way no how!_

_Christina leaned forward slightly. "Y'know…" she prompted me gently. I held her gaze steadily._

"_Would youse like to hold hands wit me?" I asked, blinking once or twice. She paused, thinking it over, and then grinned._

"_What?" I snapped impatiently. "So whadda ya say, 'Tina?"_

_She seemed to be trying in vain to wipe the goofy grin off her face. "I say…" she took a step forward, "that what you say…" another step, our faces inches apart. It was all I could do to not grab her and press my lips against hers. Did she even _realize _that she was teasing me?_

_She giggled. "…is what I say."_

_It took me a moment to process the statement. My brain seemed to have been… slowed down, by certain thoughts._

"_Wha…?" Before I had a chance to ask her to repeat, she grabbed my hand in hers and began to drag me along, once again skipping merrily._

"_You'll have to skip with me, though!"_

I took another moment to relish the memory, before turning back to Jack.

"I say… dat what you say… is what I say."

And so the alliance between Brooklyn and Manhattan began. The Strike was successful, of course, and things seemed to fall back into normal routine.

Just around that time, thoughts of Christina began to invade my mind.

I began to miss her, more and more every day. At night I would think about her; during the day words like _love_ and _future_ and _heartbreak_ seemed to find their way into my 'improved' headlines. A pesky little girl, she was, and I both loved and hated it. Finally, I found a good way to cope with my distraction; I wrote letters.

The letters were never sent, and they certainly weren't of the best quality, but they were important to me. Sometimes they were long, filled with my adventures and dreams, of my passion and pain. Other times, it was just a quick jot of, _I love you_. Yes, that's right; I was writing letters to Christina Turtle, one hundred and ten years into the future. I didn't care if she never saw them; in fact, it was probably best that she didn't. I'm not sure if she would approve of my use of language – or my most personal thoughts about her.

Things seemed to be going pretty well for me, in fact. Life was about as quiet and peaceful as it can get when you're the leader of a violent troupe of Newsies. In fact, I had been taking Christina up on one of her offers; I went to church. It was only once, since I had to skip an entire morning of selling to go, but it was nice. I started talking to God about my thoughts and problems. I'm not saying everything I spoke to him about was good or nice, but it was a start.

_And who knows?_ I mused one evening as I sat at my desk, writing a play-by-play of my selling day for Christina. _Maybe it's the start of something big._

Of course, whenever there's peace, something terrible has to come along and shatter the tranquility. It's just the way life is; nothing ever lasts.

It had been a perfectly fine day so far, and I was just curling up in my old, creaking bed in my personal bedroom, snuffing the candle out and closing my eyes peacefully. It wasn't long before a dream came.

_I was sitting on a fairly large tree stump, watching a figure twirl around in the darkness, dancing and laughing and raising her arms high. Everything visible is a mixture of eerie blues, greens, grays, and whites. All has an unearthly glow. The rest is darkness._

_So I'm sitting there, my elbows on my knees, and my chin nestled contentedly in my palms. It's then that I realize who the dancing figure is._

_Christina._

_She's spinning around, a long, thick dress from our time circling around her like a blossom. She's giggling happily, her gentle sound echoing around the space. Her hands are reaching up, and stars are drifting from the blackness above, swirling around her. I smile; she looks so beautiful._

_Just then, a loud gunshot can be heard, its noise ringing painfully in my ears. I lurch forward in horror as Christina begins to fall in slow motion, a terrified expression imprinted on her face. I begin to cry her name, when suddenly it all vanishes._

I wake with a start, cold sweat beading down my face. I take in deep, raspy breaths, vainly attempting to calm myself. _It's just a dream. She's not really dead. Everything will be fine._

A cold wind whisks through my foolishly-left-open window, and I wrap my arms around myself, feeling rather low-down and crummy. Finally, I get up and slam the window shut, cutting off all noises from the outside world. Then, I pull on a holey jacket and sit down at my desk, the chair creaking under my weight. Twig, my second, stirs in his bed across the room, but remains peacefully asleep.

I take up the old-fashioned quill and dip it in my ink bottle, which I note needs a refill. I hold the quill above the paper, hesitating. A drop of murky black liquid falls onto the paper, soaking into the middle. I blink once, twice, and then begin to write.

_Dear Christina,_

_I had a dream about you tonite. It was kind of a creapy dream, no offence to you. You got shot. It was… strange. Don't tell, but I was scared to see you get hurt. Of corse, who cud you tell? It's not like your hear. But some-times I wish you were hear. It wud be very nice. Then maybe I cud actualy be happy._

_Love, Spot_

_P.S- as always, sorry for speling mistakes. I try my best, hunny._

I sighed and set down the quill. It was strange how just writing a short letter to Christina could calm my nerves so effectively. Maybe it was just thinking about her, or maybe it was me putting my worries down on paper, but either way, it worked. I think it was a little of both. I folded the paper twice and set it neatly in the overstuffed envelope labeled 'July'. Beside it was another envelope with 'June' written across the front. I had decided to be a little organized with something so important and file them away by month. But if I kept at this like I expected to, I may need to add the year in as well.

After a moment of just sitting there in a peaceful silence, I got up and crept back to my bed. The floorboards creaked underneath me, but still Twig slept on. I smirked slightly and quietly slid into my bed. I pulled the thin cover over me, wistfully remembering the time when I had been able to have the blankets of my choice, and wake up every morning to a bouncy, freckle-faced girl.

The blissful image imprinted on the back of my eyelids, I fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

**!~!~!**

**Well then, that settles that. Since we have both 'Tina and Spot's sides of the aftermath, we can now continue on with the main plot! Whoopee! 8D**

**Oh and by the way, this chapter's title is based off the two songs 'Vanilla Twilight' by Owl City and 'Song for the Lonely' by… um… someone! X3**

**Anyhoo, see ya'll soon! :D**

_**Danke fürs lesen**_**!**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	3. All at Once

**Yayz! Chapter 3 already! Hip-hip-hooray! ;D**

**Mkay, time for da shout-outs! =D**

**Lacey White:** Yay for reviewiness! XD And yeah, I thought that, just because he spent some time in a modern English class, doesn't mean he's a professional author or something. =P After all, he's still a Newsie, and probably didn't pay attention in class, anyways… Thanks for the support, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter! =)

**YeuxBrilliants:** Aw, really? Thanks! =) Please enjoy this chapter!

**Caroline Conlon:** Don't worry; it'll get better. Or will it? 8O The world may never know! Unless I update, that is… Anyhoo, thanks for reviewing! ;D

**Eavis:** Hm, good point. And _who_ finds them will also determine the consequences… ;3 Tee-hee, thanks for reading! =)

**Austra:** Haha, your reviews are always filled with energy! They inspire me! ;D Thanks for being such an enthusiastic reviewer! 8D

**Hooray for reviews! 83 Okay, enough chit-chat! Let's get on with the chapter. =)**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own some things, and DO own others. Mweeheehee… :3**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 3 – All at Once**

_Christina_

"Emi-chaaaaan!"

I flew down the hallway, throwing myself at the unsuspecting girl with a cheesy grin spread across my face. Emilee spun around at the sound of her name, only to be shoved head-first into her locker. I wrapped my arms around her, both of us flying back on impact.

"Oof! Gerroffmeh!" came the muffled cry of my best friend. I giggled and pulled away.

"Sorry," I flashed another toothy grin, "I don't speak Swedish."

Emilee just laughed brushing herself off, and then turned to face me.

"Actually, I'm glad you're here," she told me. "I was wondering if- Oh, wait, here comes Erin!"

"Let's annoy her when she comes up!" I squealed in excitement. So, fingers at the ready, Emilee and I stood on the side of the school hall, moss-green lockers lined up behind us. Erin walked up, smiling innocently.

"Hello-" the redhead began, but was cut off when Emilee and I began to mercilessly poke her, giggling and chanting, "Bother, bother, bother, bother, bother!"

Erin ran off, laughing breathlessly. I turned back to Emilee. "So what were you saying?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a sleepover tonight. You know, kinda like a 'we survived the first week of Eighth Grade' celebration party."

I grinned broadly. "Okay-dokay! Sounds good; I'll have to ask my parents first, but I'm sure they'll say yes. We can watch _Lord of the Rings_, my most favorite movie _ever_!"

Emilee's smile seemed to falter for a second, but it soon returned. "Yeah, sure… okay."

I couldn't help but feel a little confused; whenever I mentioned things like that, Emilee seemed to get so upset. I remember a long time ago – though it's a little fuzzy – that Emilee used to spout random words like, "Brooklyn Bridge! Newsies Strike! Eighteen-Ninety-Nine!" Then she'd look at me with a strange, burning intensity in her eyes, and ask, "Do you understand, Christina? Do you remember?" And to this I would say, "Of coursey-course! I learned about New York, like, in third grade!" Then, she would look very sad, and sigh. Of course, the emotion would fade after a while, and eventually she stopped asking. But she still seemed so _upset_ about certain things I said, and I felt totally in the dark.

Suddenly, the bell rang, echoing throughout the hall and interrupting my thoughts. Emilee and I exchanged a horrified glance, and dashed off towards class.

**!~!~!**

Later that evening, I was heading cheerfully towards Emilee's house. The sun was just beginning to set, but it took about two seconds to walk to her house. Okay, more like five minutes, but you get what I mean.

Since I was too lazy to pack a suitcase, I had everything wrapped up in my oversized blue-and-red comforter blanket, and I was skipping happily down the sidewalk. Things were piled high, and I could hardly see over the top.

"To my bestie's house, oh yes! Here I go…" I had attained a brand-new habit over summer break; I sang almost everything I said. Oh sure, when I answered teacher's questions or was just making conversation I'd talk normal, but I would break into random musical mayhem at any given moment. For example, I'll be standing in the lunch line, totally bored, and so I begin to sing, "I'm standin' in the lunch line, standin' in the lunch line. I hope there's some chicken nuggets when I get there!"

"One more block, one more blocky-block-block…" I panted, getting a bit worn-out from my non-stop skipping.

I glanced down at my feet, and realized that I was now bouncing along a cross-walk.

"Oh, I'm on the roady-road," I murmured to myself between gasps. "I better be very careful…"

Oh, the irony of life.

Just at that moment, I heard a loud honk. It rang in my ears, and with a surprised squeak I stumbled, my belongings tumbling down from the top of the pile. I saw a blur of metallic blue speed through my peripheral vision, and I vainly attempted to escape. I felt my feet tangle up in the comforter, and I slipped, ramming into the ground with such force, and a sickening cracking sound resounding in my mind. A piercing shriek pounded in my head, and my throat felt sore. It was… my own? A spatter of red, a flash of blue, a tunnel of white.

Then darkness.

I was cold. So, so cold… My head was numb, and my lunges refused to work. At first, I thought I was asleep, until a shimmering white figure glided to my side. I heard a soft, gentle breathing in my ear. Suddenly, a wave of warmth filled my being, starting at my toes and rushing to the top of my skull. A stab of excruciating pain dug into my throat, and a mighty weight pressed against my chest. But as soon as it had come, it was gone, and I let out a deep breath. Then, my eyes flew open. I let out several quick, desperate breaths to regain my natural heartbeat, my eyes flying across the surroundings wildly.

I was bordered by stone. Just stone, nothing else. It ran long and tall, high above my head and supporting slabs of wood over me. Wait, is that a roof? Ugh, I need to lie down. Oh wait, I already am… tee-hee.

So there I lay, staring blankly at the ceiling, blinking slowly. I was torn; half of me wanted to roll over and go to sleep, and the other half wanted to make like a bakery truck and haul buns outta there. Eventually, I let out a low grunt and rose into a limp sitting position, my head hanging in exhaustion. Merely sitting up had sapped all my energy… what the _heck_ was going on?

I heard voices rising faintly from below, and I peeked through my bangs (new hairstyle from summer break) to see a staircase off to one corner.

"Mya…?" I murmured blearily. Another habit; I made… unique noises. These noises include: mya, nya, meow, and unya. I know, it's weird – but that's what I do.

Gathering up my pathetic amount of strength, I rose to my feet and stumbled like a puppet on strings down the staircase. I stopped at the bottom, doubling over to catch my breath. I glanced up; another room, filled with bunks and stalls, plus a door that appeared to lead into a bathroom of sorts. Why was there so much of everything?

I blinked, using a moment of my life to take in the scene, before the voices – louder this time – reminded me of my mission. Yes, walking was a mission; whoop-dee-doo.

I sucked in another breath and made my way towards the second flight of stairs. My feet felt like lead, and my arms were about as useful as my dad on a Saturday morning, and that's not very useful. Yet somehow, despite my predicament, I was able to sneakily sneak down the stairs in an extremely sneaky way; until I got to the last step, that is. At that point I tripped on air and toppled to the floor with a squeak of pain.

"Ouchie…" I moaned, sitting up, tears springing into my eyes. "_Verflixt, verflixt, ver_-" I cut off when I noticed that people were staring at me. And by people, I mean boys. Lot's of confused, insanely adorable boys.

Gulp.

I was mortified, not to mention just a little bit scared. There was a moment of awkward silence, when I stared at them and they stared right back. Then, I let out a shriek and scrambled back, only to find myself backed-up against the wall. As though in reply, all the boys started talking at once. They started milling around like bees that'd just had their honey stolen.

"MYA!" I wailed, forcing myself to stand up and lean heavily in one corner. "Nya, nya! _Hilfe_! _Jemand mir helfen_!" For a reason quite unknown to me, I was spouting German; nothing I couldn't understand, but I didn't usually speak the second language off the top of my head. Guess that's what happens when I go into panic mode… weird.

"She's speakin' gibberish, Kloppman!" a short, African-American boy yelled franticly, waving his arms in a very animated way.

"She mus' be mad!" a short, roly-poly boy with ginger curls shouted, and began running around in circles frantically. "Mad woman; mad woman!"

Many of the older boys removed their hats and threw them at the boy, causing him to duck behind a large desk.

"Shut yer trap, Snipeshooter!" a boy who reminded me of a pirate glared. "Is dat any way tah treat a lady?"

"A mad lady, yeah," the muffled voice rose up from behind the desk. Pirate Boy rolled his eye.

"She is kinda 'spisous," one boy, with sandy hair and small glasses muttered. Another, who was tall and lanky, nodded in agreement. Another, shorter boy, with dark hair and glimmering eyes, stared at me thoughtfully. A short young man with a cigar hanging lazily from his mouth glanced at his fellow… other boys, eyes gaze flitting from one face to the next, before marching up to me and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

"Naw, guys, whacha worrin' about? It's just a goil." He grinned cheekily, patting me on the head in a child-like manner. Frightened, but not wanting to make a scene, I stumbled back fearfully, bumping against the wall and sliding halfway down, before forcing myself back to my feet. The last thing I wanted was to be sitting vulnerably on the floor surrounded by boys of many different ages. Looking back, I seriously doubt any of them would try anything; after all, boys only cause mischief with pretty girls, right? I was probably just in a Mary-Sue panic mode. Lucky me.

"Now, now, Race, be nice." An elderly man shouldered his way to the front of the murmuring crowd. He shuffled up to me and the boy – apparently named 'Race' – and stopped about a foot away, looking me over in a somewhat cautious way. Then, he spun around to face the crowd of boys, fists on his hips, his eyes flashing.

"Awright, boys," he addressed them sternly; "whose is she?"

My eyes widened. Whose was I? I wasn't _anybody's_! Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment at the very thought, I took a heavy step forward, my feet clomping against the wooden floorboards catching everyone's attention.

"_Entschuldigung_ (excuse me)," I began somewhat quietly. Mentally, I was screaming, _wait, what the- WHY the heck am I speaking German? Why can't I speak English? Augh!_ But outwardly, I continued to verbalize the foreign language, despite the fact that I hadn't learned half of what I was saying in German class yet.

"_Ich bin nicht von hier_," I attempted to explain, but the words were lost on my crowd, who was staring at me with wide eyes and blank expressions. Pirate Boy's mouth was hanging open, and I think he was starting to drool. Ew.

Beginning to grow desperate, I searched for English words in my mind, but could find none. "_Ich_… _Es tut mir leid, dass Sie mich nicht verstehen, aber Ich_... _Ich_…" I felt tears spring into my eyes once again. Why on Earth was I talking entirely in German? I had to communicate in _English_!

I screwed my eyes shut, my cheeks flushing and a choked sob escaping. I heard a faint murmur ripple through the crowd. It was bad enough that I was stuck, as the only female, in an unknown place, but I couldn't speak my native language either? I bowed my head, ashamed to let the boys see me cry, whoever they were.

Suddenly, I felt light, feathery touch brush against my lips, and I opened my eyes to see a faint glimmer in the air. Two piercing blue eyes seemed to be floating, gazing into my own inches away from my face. I felt a tingling sensation across my lips where they had been touched, and my throat felt pleasantly warm. The eyes seemed to soften as I swallowed the lump in my throat, wiping away the wet tears which had tipped my eyelashes. I could've sworn that someone murmured a faint, _I'm sorry_, in my ear, but I could've been imagining things. I took a deep breath and stood up a little straighter, strength filling my being once again. I attempted a weak smile, regardless of the fact that I was still a little scared.

"Sorry," I began, my voice soft and slightly cracked. The boys exchanged glances; some were relieved, while others looked somewhat skeptical. "That was German I was speaking, but I'll speak in English from now on. Um, that is, if anyone actually talks to me…" I averted my gaze. Being the quiet person I am, I have a phobia of embarrassing myself in front of people I don't know very well, especially boys. What? Every girl wants to be impressive and perfect, whether they're actually interested in the man or not. At least, I think so. I hope so… I don't want to be alone on this!

I flinched away from the crowd, clasping my hands in front of my nervously, stiff and trembling. Finally, one of them spoke, a thick New York accent lining his words.

"Who is youse?" he called. I glanced up nervously, my face bright as a red chili pepper, and hot as one, too.

"I- I'm Christina. That's my name… yep." I couldn't help but let a smile twitch, but, not wanting to look like an idiot, forced it down into a straight line again.

The boys began to murmur amongst themselves again. I turned to the elderly man, who seemed to be the only one still paying attention to me.

"W- Where am I?" I questioned quietly, my voice higher than usual. He gave me a quizzical but somewhat sympathetic look.

"De Manhattan Newsboy's Lodgin' house, my dear." He told me gently. I blinked.

"Manhattan, New York?" He hesitated, but then nodded slowly, as though questioning my sanity.

"Why is de place so important, Miss…" he paused, and then realization struck his features like a bolt of lightening. His gaze intensified, and he looked me straight in the eye, and then said softly, but firmly, "Miss 'Tina?"

At first, I was confused, my mind feeling fuzzy and tired. I felt my eyelids droop, and I desperately wanted to lie down and sleep, to dream about something… some_one_?

I shook my head slightly to clear it, and blinked deeply several times before turning back to him. "It's just that, well, I'm from… Wisconsin."

He raised his eyebrows, but didn't look all that surprised. A smile twitched at his lips, but there was still a hint of uncertainty in his gaze. "What year, Miss 'Tina?"

I frowned. _What kind of question is that?_

"Two thousand ten… why?"

I peered at him curiously, preparing myself for another odd question, but there were none. He just gave a small, satisfied smirk and turned to face the group of boys. Motioning to me, he stated six simple words.

"Boys, dis is Miss 'Tina Turtle."

Many pairs of eyes widened. The boys huddled together, their words barely reaching my ears.

"_That_ 'Tina Turtle?" one whispered hoarsely.

"Of course it's _that_ 'Tina Turtle, you idiot! How coul' dere poss'bly be any udder?" hissed another in annoyance. I realized with a jolt of surprise that it was Race. I glanced at my side, where he had been standing moments a go. Man, that boy is fast.

"Bu' what if she's fakin' it?" a smaller voice asked warily. "Y'know, tah git close tah Brooklyn hisself?"

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. _Brooklyn? What kind of guy's name is that?_

"Well she is wearin' mighty strange clothes," the African-American boy pointed out, "I musta been sleepin' when dey let goils weah trousahs."

A murmur of agreement passed through the other boys. Finally, a tall, handsome young man wearing a bandana and cowboy hat declared loudly, "Dis man-huddle is ovah."

I couldn't help but giggle slightly. I knew a boy at my school who was always saying that. Patrick 'PJ' Hines…

I looked over to see them all watching me, wide grins spread across their faces.

"W- What?" I stammered, my hand wiping across my mouth self-consciously. "Do I have something on my face?"

My gaze flew from one boy to the next, searching for an answer. Finally, the cowboy spoke, the excitement evident in his voice.

"Miss 'Tina Toitle, welcome tah da Newsies."

**!~!~!**

**And there youse have it! Tee-hee, sorry it took so long! Writer's block = **_**nicht so gut**_**! BUT, thankfully, the fabulous Firefly Conlon sent her Spot! and Skittery! muses after me, and they helped me finish this. So, thank her when you get the time! ;D**

**STAY BEAUTIFUL Y'ALL.**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	4. This Life Is

**Hey all. I'm baaaaaaack. Yush! XD Sorry for the delay!**

**TIME FOR SHOUT-OUTS! 8D**

**Lacey White:** She knows that Newsies existed, but forgot all about the _Newsies_ movie, her obsession, all the characters… everything. =( Thanks for reviewing! =)

**Firefly Conlon:** Tee-hee, don't worry! He'll show up soon enough… ;D And thanks for those !muses! NEWSIES SISTAHS UNITE UNDER GOD! 8D

**Austra:** Don't worry; I get embarrassed by all my rabid reviews. =P Thanks for the support! =)

**Caroline Conlon:** I'm glad you enjoyed it! And yes, they will meet again soon… OR WILL THEY? 8O Tee-hee, thanks for the review! ;3

**YeuxBrilliants:** Thanks for all the support! You're a great person! =D

**LucyOfNarnia:** Thanks for the review! =D And here's that long-awaited update! ;)

**Well, that's that, so… without further ado, here's Chapter 2… or, according to Fan-Fiction, Chapter 4. XD**

**Disclaimer: …I don't really feel like doing this right now.**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 2 – This Life Is…**

_Christina_

"Wha- I don't… hey, w-wait a second!" I sputtered as one of the tall boys put his hand on my back and steered me towards the door. The rest of the boys followed behind us, milling around and chattering amongst themselves, shooting me these glances and repeating 'Brooklyn' under their breaths.

_What the heck?_

"Calm down, Miss 'Tina," the young man with the bandana – who had his hand on the small of my back – said to me, giving me with crooked yet somehow warm smile. "We'se is gonna get youse some clothes befoah we get started."

"Buy why?" I asked, feeling confused and extremely tired. "Why aren't the clothes I'm in fine?"

His eyes widened. "Don't you know?" he questioned, and then flung the door open to reveal the bustling streets of… well, not Mayville, that's for sure. My jaw dropped, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. The boy smirked.

"Youse is in Eighteen Ninety-Nine New York."

I pointed at the lively, colorful streets. "I- I don't…" I let my arm drop, and forcefully closed my mouth.

"Enough o' dis," the pirate boy growled, shoving past us. "Let's jus' get tah da Jacob's and get da clothes." Bandana Boy nodded and led me out into the streets, all the boys parading behind us.

"Wait!" I wailed, struggling to get away, only to have him grab my wrist. "I don't even know you guys! Don't think that I'm this stupid!"

Bandana Boy's smirk just widened. "Youse is 'Tina Turtle, all right." He murmured. "Jus' da way he described tah me."

I shot him a confused and slightly annoyed glance. "Who described me?" I demanded. Seriously, I was normally shy and a happy-go-lucky person, but this guy just… _arg_!

He cocked his head slightly. "Brooklyn," he replied simply. I sighed.

"Whatever. Just get me clothes so that people won't think I'm insane, okay?" He nodded, and off we went.

We soon arrived at what looked like an apartment complex. I started towards the door, but Bandana Boy – yes, he _still_ hadn't properly introduced himself – swung me around and dragged me up the creaky old fire escape. I glanced down at the boys who gathered below, grinning up. The Pirate gave me a thumbs-up, to which I couldn't help but smile. I turned back to find us at a window. Bandana Boy rapped on it three times, and then leaned back, waiting.

"Um, sorry to ask," I tilted my head back to look up at him; he was_ tall_! "But what's your name?"

He glanced down at me and chuckled. "Sahrry 'Tina; I'm Jack Kelly."

I felt a shiver run up and down my spine. _Jack Kelly…_

"That's not your real name," I blurted before I even had a chance to think. I slapped my hand over my mouth, but he still narrowed his eyes.

"How'd you know?" he asked, dragging out each word. I blinked, my mind momentarily fuzzy.

"I- I don't know," I admitted, a blush rising to my cheeks. He just shrugged, turning back to the window as a shuffling noise came from the other side.

"Prob'ly hoid it from Brooklyn," he mumbled.

"Who's this Brooklyn?" I asked in bewilderment, to which his expression changed from laid-back to surprise.

"Youse mean you don't know?" his voice rose, and I felt my heart flutter in panic.

"Sorry!" I squeaked, taking a step back. "Please don't throw me over the railing…"

To my surprise, he leaned against the brick wall and laughed aloud. I just stared.

"Don't worry 'bout it, kid," he chuckled, extending an arm and ruffling my hair. I ducked away, and he turned back to the window.

"Dis is annoying," he grumbled, and pulled the window up and climbed in. He turned back to me, extending a hand.

"C'mon in."

I hesitated. "Are… are you sure we're allowed? I don't want to get in trouble."

He snickered. "What a goil. Don't worry, dis is me friend's place. He won't mind."

"I… uh, okay." I walked forward and clumsily half-climbed, half-fell into the apartment. Jack laughed again and offered a helping hand. I accepted it and followed him into a room filled with beds, a few nightstands and a wardrobe. He flung the doors of the wardrobe open and fished out a dress that looked about my size. Jack handed them to me and directed me to the restroom.

"Try it on," he instructed. I nodded mutely and trotted in. To be honest, the dress was really nice, but the bust was too loose. Fabulous; a swipe at my ego. Or at least, what was left of it. I never had a large self-esteem to begin with. I glanced up to find a mirror in front of me – I was a mess. A total and utter mess; it was absolutely pathetic. My hair was all frizzy at the top, and a couple small tangles could be seen on the sides of my head. My bangs were greasy and clumped together; instead of light and feathery like I had hoped they would be when I first got the cut. I bit my lip, feeling embarrassed that a whole bunch of boys had seen me like that. I frowned at my reflection, and brushed my bangs to the side. A clump fell back into place, which I once again pushed back. This time it stayed, and I thought it looked pretty nice… I mean, considering it was me we were talking about. Then, after a little while more of staring, I set the tips of my fingers along my hair parting and raked a good amount of it to one side, so that there was more hair on one side than the other. I couldn't help but smile at the change. It seemed more… not _refined_, per se, but different, and definitely not as ugly. I stared, still unsure of myself, before carefully gathering my skirt up in my hands and lightly kicking the door open. Jack had his back to me, a cigarette balanced between his fore and middle fingers. He turned around slightly, and then did a double take, half-choking on his cigarette in a desperate attempt to hide it. I sucked in my cheeks, trying not to laugh. After a moment of hacking and stamping out the little killer, he spun around and nodded.

"Looks good. Let's go."

**!~!~!**

It was pretty strange, my first day. As time passed, I actually _gained_ more strength and energy, instead of loosing it. I didn't actually sell on the first day; I just sat on a bench and watched. I was with Jack for the morning addition, but he got pretty sick of my babbling and giggling and eventually forced me onto Kid Blink, that one pirate guy, for the noon addition. He and I fared a little better, though he did try to gag me with a newspaper at one point for trying to look under his eye patch. After that I was able to settle down, and watched as he skillfully – and charmingly, might I add – sold his thirty newspapers to young and giggly young girls.

_He reminds me of a Host Club member…_ I thought absent-mindedly, and, noticing another Newsie doing something much similar a corner away, added, _actually, they all do. Jack Kelly would be Tamaki._ And thus, I was sucked into the _Ouran High School Host Club_ otaku world.

After Blink had sold his last paper and waved goodbye to his blushing customer, he and I returned to the Lodging House, gathering up a small crowd of fellow Newsies as we went. Pretty soon Bumlets, Jack Kelly, Specs, Racetrack, and Skittery had surrounded the two of us, bombarding me with questions?

"How old are youse, 'Tina?" Bumlets inquired.

"Uh, thirteen. You?"

"Fifteen."

"Oh, cool."

Racetrack pushed the boy to the side, grinning broadly. "Got any lady friends?"

"Not here, sorry."

He frowned in disappointment.

Specs pushed his… well, _specs_ up the bridge of his nose, the light catching them and hiding his eyes. "How _did_ you get here?"

The forbidden question. Everyone fell into a sudden hush. I stopped in my tracks, the group doing the same a second after.

"I… I don't know."

"Can youse remember anything?" Skittery asked, his voice oddly quiet. I blinked and furrowed my brow.

"Er… I was on the way to my friend's house for a sleepover, and I…" I swallowed loudly; "got hit by a car, I think."

I let my gaze travel from face to face. They were all blank. Suddenly, Jack's eyes lit up, and he hit his fist into the palm of his hand.

"Oh! Though carriages without horses, kinda like a trolley or a train?"

I frowned. "Um, yeah. How'd you know?"

Jack just laughed, patting me on the head like a puppy. "Brooklyn told me."

I let out a loud breath. "Okay, you guys, no offence, but what's with this whole 'Brooklyn' thing? I don't get it. Is it some inside joke? A cult? What?"

They all exchanged surprised glances, and then burst out laughing. I felt my face growing red. Kid Blink gave me a painful slap on the back, forgetting I was a girl.

"Youse'll figure it out soon enough, Miss 'Tina. Soon enough."

By now we had continued walking, and soon arrived back at the Lodging House just as the sun was finished setting. I was the first to walk through the door, and the first to see Kloppman and several of the younger Newsies surrounding a large bundle. My eyes widened when I realized what it was – my stuff. I rushed forward, shouldering aside Tumbler and a protesting Snipeshooter, gathering the crudely-wrapped blanket up in my arms and stumbling up the stairs. The curious Newsies were right on my heels, guiding me over to a spare lower bunk before I had a chance to drop the stuff and thus make a huge mess everywhere. I plunked the stuff down with a sigh of relief. I unwrapped the thick blanket, extracting my pillow, pajamas, toothbrush, my dad's hairbrush – it worked so much better on my thick hair than any other brush in the house – and a ten dollar bill. I stretched the money out in my palm, receiving collective gasp from the boys crowded around me.

"_Ten_ dollahs!"

"No way!"

"Not fair!"

Feeling sheepish, I hurried rolled up the money and stuck it in the fold of my pillow.

"I'm gonna set up my bed now. Nothing to see here," I said, shooing them away. They left, though reluctantly.

After straightening things out and storing my few possessions in a box under the bed, I flopped down onto my bunk and sighed. Of course, once you lay down, it's _very_ hard to get up again, so I just laid there, staring up at the bunk above me, wondering what would happen if my bunkmate was really fat and crushed the bunk under their weight. Would I die? Probably. I sighed, shaking the thoughts away.

Then, I was asleep.

_Bada-bing-bada-boom_.

**!~!~!**

It was always typical for Skittery to awaken to the groans and grumblings of the other boys. Despite himself, he smirked at their pain, feeling glad to know that he wasn't the only one suffering. He slid out of bed and stretched, feeling around blearily for his shirt. After dressing and blinking away the sleep, he looked around. Everything was in place, except…

The empty bunk was no longer empty. There was girl curled up inside it. A _girl_.

_Oh, yeah, _he thought with a yawn, scratching his stomach, _'Tina Turtle. Brooklyn's goil._

Feeling rather mischievous, Skittery tip-toed towards the peacefully sleeping girl, who had her back to the bustling room, shrouded in the shadow of the upper bunk, her thick comforter blanket, preparing to reach out and grab her from the bed. However, when his fingertips were mere inches away from the lightly snoring lump, a blur flashed in his peripheral vision and sent him tumbling to the ground. Writhing around under the weight, Skittery was able to sit up, though the figure of insult refused to move.

"What da heck, Blink?" Skittery snarled at the offender. Kid Blink let out a loud _shhh!_, sending a wary glance in the direction of the still-sleeping girl.

"Do't wake her up!" He hissed. Skittery narrowed his eyes.

"Why not?" He growled. Kid Blink's hands fisted around his lodgingmate's shirt.

"Remember what ol' Brooklyn said? Her blood type is AB*!" By now, most of the Lodging House population had gathered around the two boys, including Kloppman. Skittery didn't get it.

"So?"

Kid Blink's gaze intensified. "That means she has the same blood type as Oscar Delancy!"

A gasp of terror echoed around the room of horrified Newsies.

Skittery's eyes widened in shock. "No!" he rasped in dismay.

"Split personality…"

"Hates early mornings…"

"Sometimes shy, sometimes outgoing…"

The whispers continued, everyone shooting nervous glances at the girl. Everyone was so enthralled with this new discovery that no one noticed the shaded figure rising slowly from the bed.

"Do you find something wrong with my blood type?" the voice of the figure growled. Everyone froze, slowly turning. At the sight of the girl – eyes narrowed and blazing, shadows half-covering her face – they shook their heads rapidly, save Kloppman, who was in the back of the crowd wondering, as he rubbed his temples exasperatedly, where he had gone wrong.

"Good." She croaked darkly, and the fell back onto the bed, succumbing once again to the obscurity of sleep.

**!~!~!**

**Yush, my blood type is AB. :3 Best blood type ever, I tell you.**

**_*Type AB:_**_  
__Type AB's are the split personalities of the blood groups. They can be both outgoing and shy, confident and timid. While responsible, too much responsibility will cause a problem. They are trustworthy and like to help others._

_**And yes, I know that the whole 'blood type' thing is more popular in Japan than the USA (or wherever else you might live), but I just couldn't resist throwing that in there. X3 I love my blood type.**_

_**Sorry that the beginning and suckish and rushed. I began this a long time ago, and just finished it now.**_

_**HAPPY NEW YEAR, Y'ALL! :D Five days late, but still…**_

**QUESTION OF THE DAY: What's your blood type? :3 Just curious!**

**AB blood types UNITE! 8D**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	5. A Very Special Job

***Two months later***

**Uh… hi guys… ^_^**

**Sorry for the delay!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for Christina. And the pen she writes with. Well, actually, technically it's Kloppman's, and I don't own Kloppman so I guess I don't own the pen either. Darn. I always liked that pen…**

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 3 – A Very 'Special' Job (for a Very 'Special' Girl)**

_Christina_

I awoke surprisingly early to the sound of quietly chattering Newsies.

"What should we do with her?"

"I dunno; she can't be a Newsie."

"Why not?"

"She's a spoiled kid from Two-Thousand-Ten!"

"Oh, yeah…"

"I say we throw her ovah de Brooklyn Bridge!"

"Shut up, Snipeshooter."

"I'm jus' sayin'…"

"Well, how about we – crap, she's awake."

Alas, they had caught me watching them sneakily from under the covers. The Newsies looked me over, then turned back to their man-huddle and whispered for a little while longer. After a while they shoved Kid Blink in my direction and hurried away. The eye-patch Newsie sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, Miss 'Tina, youse should prob'ly get up so I'se can show you yoah new job."

"Job?" I giggled, leaping out of my bed and twirling around randomly. "Oh, boy, I love jobs!"

**!~!~!**

"I hate jobs," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and slumping down in my chair.

"Oh come on Miss 'Tina, it's really nawt that bad," Kid Blink insisted with a half-hearted smile.

"But this'll be _boring_!" I whined, giving him by best kicked-puppy look. Apparently it wasn't very good, because he just shot me a skeptically-raised eyebrow before turning back to explaining my job.

I sat behind Kloppman's desk, a clipboard and pen in front of me. On the clipboard was a sheet of paper, and on the sheet of paper were a bunch of lines. After each line was a checkbox.

"Now," Blink was telling me; "People are gonna be comin' in to apply foah the job of a Newsie. Youse write their name on the line and put the little 'male' or 'female' sign thingies aftah the name. Then do a quick interview to decide if they should join the Manhattan crew. Put a check if yes and an X if no. Got it?"

"Caposh," I mumbled, taking up to the pen and clicking it out. Kid Blink let out a sigh of relief and hurried out the door.

_Didn't even say goodbye… yeesh._

I had about two seconds of peace and quiet before the first crowd of jobless children thundered into the main lobby. They laughed and joked and teased and shoved and pretty soon, I had a grade-A brouhaha on my hands.

"Um," I squeaked, unable to find my voice; "C-could you please, like, m-make a line or… or something? Please? A line? Anybody…?"

"Alright, punks!" someone's voice rose above the din. Everyone instantly fell silent as a girl stomped into the room. She shoved her way to the front and spun around, her pale yellow dress swishing around her and her pink bow bouncing in her hair. "Get in a single-file line, _now_!"

Well, you didn't have to tell those kids twice. In half a minute, less than no time, every possible applicant was behind another, the loud-mouthed girl at the head. She swept a calculating look across the line and gave a curt nod. Then she turned to me.

"Well, gee, thanks for the help-" I began timidly, but she cut me off.

"I'm here to apply for the job of a Newsie!" She declared, slamming her hands onto the desk. I recoiled.

"U-um, okay, name please?"

"I am Renge Houshakuji, and I fell in love with the Newsboy David Jacobs!" Tears began to stream down her face and her voice trembled slightly. I scribbled down her name and hoped I had spelled it right.

"So, you wanna be a Newsie because you…" I hesitated; "…Fell in love?"

"That's right!" She snapped, then began twirling passionately. Red rose petals began blowing in from nowhere, and although they kinda creeped me out, I had to admit that they added a nice touch.

"I saw my beloved David and knew that he was the one for me!" she choked, lacing her fingers together as she stared off into the distance, "But the only way to get close to him was to become a Newsie, so I flew over here from France on my private jet and-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I cut her off. "You have a _private jet_?"

She blinked. "Yes, of course I do. Anyways, as I was saying-"

"You're hired."

"Really?" Her eyes began to sparkle. "Oh thank you, thank you! You won't regret it, I promise!"

"Just get me a private jet and I'm sure I'll survive." I checked the box. "Next!"

Renge began cackling, and the floor beneath her opened up, and she sunk into the darkness below. A sign appeared that read: "Powerful Motor". The sign looked sort of expensive, so I took it and tucked it into my pocket for safe-keeping.

Once Renge was gone and the floor had returned to its original state, the second applicant stepped up. Well, I _heard_ them step up, but I didn't _see_ anybody.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Uh, next?"

"Down here!"

My eyes widened as I leaned over the table to find a very short young man, with big blue eyes and large hairy feet.

"Hello," he said, his face somber. "Could you please tell me-"

"Name please," I interrupted him.

"Um, Frodo Baggins, but-"

"Is that two Gs or one?"

"Two, but I-"

"And why do you want to be a Newsie?"

"I don't _want_ to be a Newsie," he told me, irritation sparking in his eyes; "I don't even know what a Newsie _is_. All I want is directions to Mordor, I'm terribly lost and I-"

"Try the rockier path to the north," I sighed, leaning back in the rickety wooden chair; "There should be a little gray dude who'll show you the way. He's very trustworthy and harmless."

Frodo gave a small, hesitant nod. "Alright Miss, thank you very much."

"No prob."

The strange little man shuffled out of the lobby. Just before he left, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny gold ring, stroked it lovingly, and then quickly put it away. Then he was gone.

"Hello," a cheery green man grinned, hopping up to the desk.

"Hi," I couldn't help but smile back. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine," he said happily. "I'm here today to become a Newsie!" Then, despite having no hands, he somehow managed to put a Newsboy cap, which he pulled out of nowhere, on his bald head.

"Okay then," I picked up the pen. "Can I have your name please?"

"I'm Larry the Cucumber," he said merrily.

_So he's a cucumber, huh…_

"And could you list some of your personal achievements?" I asked.

"Well, I sing a lot, and have acted as many different roles for Big Idea, Inc."

"I see…"

"I had a resume, but I accidentally left it on the kitchen counter at home. Sorry!"

"That's okay," I assured him.

"Can I also give you a list of things I _haven't_ done?" He asked, his oversized eyes lighting up with anticipation.

"Oh, I don't think that's really nessi-"

"Well, I've… never plucked a rooster, and I'm not too good at Ping Pong, and I've never thrown my mashed potatoes up against the wall, and I've never kissed a chipmunk, and I've never gotten head lice, and I've never been to Boston in the _faaall_!"

Larry ended his song and the room instantly broke out into wild applause. Once the raving crowd had died down, I let out a small laugh.

"As nice as that was, Larry," I chuckled, "I don't think we can have a cucumber as a Newsie. You might wake up with only half of you left."

Larry nodded in understanding. "Well," he said over his shoulder as he hopped away; "I guess I'll just go hang around in the produce isle until they invent computer animation! …And computers."

The rhythmic sound of boots clicking against the wooden panels echoed through the lobby, and an ominous shadow fell across the desk. I gulped and fearfully looked up. A tall man with beaded dreadlocks stood before me, gun pointed right at my face.

"The name's Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he said in a low British accent, "And I'm here to take over this lodging house. And be a Newsie, I suppose."

"Eep! Okay… Jack Sparrow…" I began to write his name.

"_Captain_!" He hissed, pressing the tip of the gun against my cheek. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow!"

"R-right," I squeaked, and hurriedly squeezed 'captain' in before his name.

**!~!~!**

Several hours and random characters later, I had a page-long list and a very long line of applicants that showed no signs of slowing down.

"Lunch break!" I declared, then ducked under the desk.

_Alright, let's take a look at this list here…_

_Renge Houshakuji… check._

_Frodo Baggins… X._

_Larry the Cucumber… X._

_(Captain) Jack Sparrow… check._

_What am I gonna do? I've only done four people in the past hour… oh man, and I think there's still fifty out there! Should I speed this up? I'm not even sure if that's possible… where are all these people coming from? They don't really fit in with the time period… maybe they died too? Oh, whatever. I can't disappoint the Newsies, anyways. Deep breaths, Christina, deep breaths. You can do this – deep breaths…_

"Okay," I called out, popping up from my hiding place, "lunch break's over."

A young boy began to step forward, but before he had the chance a tall blonde cut in line, dressed totally in leather as he swaggered to the front with a gun in one hand, a chocolate bar in the other. When he reached the front desk he had pointed the gun at my face (much like Captain Jack Sparrow had previously), and snapped off a piece of his chocolate.

"I'm going to be a Newsie," he had growled, eyes wide and threatening. "I have reason to believe that my nemesis is hiding out, here in New York. If he is, I'll need to go undercover to find out exactly where his building is."

I tentatively pushed the gun away from my face. He growled, but lowered it to his side.

"Don't you think you'd be kind of… I dunno, like, obvious with that hair of yours?" I asked him softly. "And that scar?"

"You got a problem with my hair?" He shouted, and once again the gun was in my face.

"N-no, it was just an unbiased speculation…" I cleared my throat and took up the pen. "Um, name please?"

"Mello."

"Last name?"

"Doesn't matter."

I begged to differ, but decided that unless I wanted to be spitting gum out through my forehead, I should probably just go along with it.

"Very well then," I mumbled, scribbling down _'Mellow'._

"No W," he snarled. I nodded and rapidly scratched out the unnecessary letter.

"Welcome to Manhattan," I forced what was probably a lame smile and motioned towards the stairs. "Feel free to set up a bunk."

He grunted in agreement and swept away. Then a little boy stepped up, looking innocent and slightly breathless.

"Hi," he said matter-of-factly, "I'm Kevin McCallister."

"Hello, sweetie," I smiled down at him as I put his name on the line, feeling like a school secretary. "And why do you want to be a Newsie?"

"I was supposed to fly with my family to Miami for Christmas vacation," he explained, "But I accidentally got on the wrong plane and ended up here in New York. Now I've got two bad guys after me and I already got kicked out of the Ritz, so I need a place to stay."

I blinked in shock at his story, then gave a small, clueless nod. "Well, alrighty then… go on up to the bunkroom I guess."

"Thanks!" He grinned, and dashed away before you could say 'Wet Bandits'.

When I turned back to face my next applicant, I was slightly surprised to see a young boy, barely able to look over the front of the desk. He had large amber eyes and a furrowed brow, skin the color of caramel, and dark brown hair pulled back into a series of cornrows. This wasn't the strange part – it was the fact he was dressed like a modern-day gangster that really got me. He had baggy pants and a layered shirt, and then an oversized silver chain that looked even bigger on him. At least he didn't have a hat turned sideways. But whatever he was wearing, it was obvious that he wasn't much older than eight.

"Hello," I said dumbly, unable to think of anything else to say (despite having been talking to people all day).

"Yeah, yeah, whatevah nigga." He said, shifting from one foot to the other. My mouth fell open.

"E-excuse me?" I choked out. "What did you just call me?"

"I called you a nigga, nigga," he said, eyeing me through narrowed slits, "An' I ain't gonna stand around all day, so hook me up wit a job o' somethin'."

I just stared.

"But I'm not… African-American," I stammered, my voice fading. The boy tossed his head.

"I know dat, ****er!" he snapped, "I ain't color-blind! You don't gotta be black to be called a nigga."

"So I see," I sighed, then gave my head a little shake and said, "Well, anyways, you say you want a job as a Newsie?"

He gave me this kind of 'What the Fudge' look before nodding.

"Um, n-name?"

"Yeah, yeah," he crossed his arms; "My name is Riley, son. But'cha know, niggas call me, AKA, Riley Escobar, you know what I'm sayin'? 'Cause I be the streets, ya know?"

I was taken aback. "Um, y-yeah, sure." I mumbled uncertainly, but Riley was already plowing along.

"I got all kinds a names, like H.R. Paperstacks, uh, also known as, AKA Horse Choker, um, AKA Pillsbury Doughboy, AKA, Louis Rich…"

I cocked my head. "Like the turkey bacon?"

"Yeah, like the-" He turned to look at me. "What?"

I shook my head. "So, what's your name again?"

"Riley Freeman, nigga," he said whilst popping his collar, "AKA H.R. Paperstacks, AKA Horse Choker, AKA Pillsbury Doughboy, AKA Louis Rich."

I stared down at the suddenly short line drawn across the paper, the pen hovering hesitantly over it.

"Um, I don't think that'll fit…"

**!~!~!**

After an especially long interview with Riley (he passed… somehow), he ended up coming around and sitting next to me.

"Do you wanna go and set up your bunk?" I offered politely. The little boy shook his head and slumped in his seat.

"I dun feel like it, nigga," he told me. "Too much **** work."

I creased my brow. "What's that beeping noise?" I asked, fearing what the answer might be. Riley turned his head slightly to look at me.

"What, you mean the sound when I say words like **** and ****?"

"Um, yeah… what is it?"

"It's me swearin', nigga!" Riley threw his hands up in exasperation. "But I come from da censored episodes."

"Ah, I see." I paused. "Then why isn't the… uhm, N-word censored?"

"What, you mean nigga?"

"Y-yeah."

"'Cause it ain't a swear word, dumb-***."

I licked my lips and shifted uncomfortably. "But some people find it offensive."

"Yeah, but I'm a nigga, so I can call uddah people nigga too. But you can't call me a nigga 'cause youse white."

"I see."

Riley opened his mouth to say more, but then my next applicant rang the service bell and conveniently interrupted the tiny spitfire.

"Um, excuse me," the young woman said timidly; "My name is Caitlin O'Connor and I-"

Suddenly, I snapped. Memories came flooding back to me, memories of these characters, shows that I had watched, books that I had read… and- wait, what was this? A boy… in red suspenders…

_Spot Conlon._

I let out an audible gasp, my hands flying to my mouth.

_Spot Conlon… I love him… and he loves me! I remember! I remember!_

"I remember!" I cried with glee, and swept Riley up in my arms, twirling around out of pure joy.

"Aah!" Riley squirmed uneasily in my grip. "Nigga, you gay."

I stopped and set the boy down, hands on either shoulder as I gazed intently into his eyes. "No, Riley," I told him, "I'm not gay. I'm in love. With Spot Conlon. I remember, him, Riley, I _remember_! I forgot, but now… now I…" Unable to contain my happiness I began to sob, pulling the miniature gangster into a vice-like grip as I wept tears of pure joy.

Then, unable to think of a suitable ending for her chapter, the writer (also Christina), stopped writing and began to type this paragraph. Then she-

Hold up, hold up. She's craving some ice cream, but she'll be right back. Don't change that channel, now!

…Ah, much better. You know, Roundy's vanilla ice cream is a lot better than you might think. And cheap, too! 

Anyways, the authoress took a bite of her ice cream and, after recovering from a particularly nasty brain freeze, turned to face her reader's screen with a satisfied smirk.

"April Fools, fools."

**!~!~!**

**I DO NOT OWN:**

**Renge Houshakuji (**_**Ouran High School Host Club**_**)**

**Frodo Baggins (**_**Lord of the Rings**_** trilogy)**

**Larry the Cucumber (**_**Veggie Tales**_**)**

**Captain Jack Sparrow (**_**Pirates of the Caribbean **_**trilogy)**

**Mello (**_**Death Note**_**)**

**Kevin McCallister (**_**Home Alone 1&2**_**)**

**Riley Freeman (**_**The Boondocks**_**)**

**Caitlin O'Connor (**_**Diary of a Teenage Girl **_**series)**

**How many characters did you recognize? Tell me when you review! ;)**

**~ Christina Conlon**

**P.S, Real chapter coming soonish! I promise! :)**


	6. The Life of a Natural Rookie

**TIME FOR CHAPTER… THREE! :D Party, party, party! Woot!**

**Okay, I'm done, but seriously! I'm starting this off a whim – I didn't have a single ounce of muse until a few seconds ago. So I just minimized the Ouran High School Host Club fan fic I was reading and began to type! Go me! X3 Just kidding.**

**Now, on with de storyyyy! :)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Newsies, there would be more than just a movie – trust me. There'd also be a TV show, weekly Broadway musicals (you all get free tickets and backstage passes! Huzzah!), video games, cosplay costumes, signed posters, and all that other good junk! Buuut, I don't, so it's nothing more than a dream. TT_TT Please accept this cruddy Fan-Fic as consolation, dearest heartbroken fan. *pat pat***

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 3 – The Life of a Natural Rookie**

_Christina_

I admit I felt a little bad for snapping at the boys – the boys who had so kindly taken me in, given me a place to sleep, food to eat, and even clothes to wear. I have absolutely no idea why, but it's always "Brooklyn this, Brooklyn that", so I'm gonna take a chance and guess that it has something to do with this 'Brooklyn' kid. Or maybe they're not a kid. What do I know? Nothing, that's what; I don't even knowing how I freakin' _got_ here – Eighteen-Ninety-Nine New York, I mean. Seriously, it's like I fell from the sky. Certainly felt like it when I woke up the next morning. Like, _actually_ woke up on my own free will. By then the boys had long since left, and I glanced at an old wooden clock on the wall to find that it was just a little past noon. I groaned and rolled over, unsure on whether I should just sleep until someone forced me up, or get myself decent before the boys came back. Finally, after falling back into half-sleep three times, I finally hoisted myself out of the lower bunk and fell onto the floor, my bare skin making a weird slapping noise against the cold wood. I winced, grumbling bad-naturedly under my breath as I pulled the box of my belongings out from under the bed. I knelt beside the box, staring sadly at the meager collection of items – hairbrush, toothbrush, my original set of clothes, the ten-dollar bill, and the pajamas I had forgotten to change into before I went to bed. Oops. I had just been so tired, so I had just collapsed without even bothering to do anything.

With a small sigh, I grabbed my toiletries and marched into the massive washroom. Unable to find any toothpaste, I brushed with water I pumped myself, gave my hair a quick grooming, and smoothed down my rumpled dress before tripping my way down the stairs. Kloppman was at the desk, filing some papers with solid determination etched onto his features. I hesitated, before carefully approaching, uncertain on what to say. Luckily, he noticed me before I had to speak, and gave me a warm smile.

"Good mor- well, that's good _afternoon_ to ya, Miss 'Tina," he chuckled. I quickly laughed as well, and as the giggles died away I averted my gaze awkwardly. Oh, social skills abound!

Kloppman, noticing my insecurity, leaned in a little, tilting his head in a fatherly manner. "What's it dat ya need, Miss 'Tina?"

I straightened up, snapping to attention. "Oh, um! Y-yeah, I was just wondering what I should… like, y'know, do next."

He paused, mulling it over in his head. Then he replied, "Well, Miss 'Tina, I'd suggest headin' down to da _World_ Distribution Center and seein' if youse can find one a dem boys. Youse remember da way dere?"

I bit my lip, but then gave a hasty nod. "Uh-huh! Thanks, and bye-bye!" With that, I skipped out the door before he had a chance to keep me any longer. I wanted to find Jack or Kid Blink, and fast. It made me nervous to be all alone in an unfamiliar place, and for some bizarre reason those two just gave me a feeling of security. Especially Kid Blink – he had a real family-like feel to him, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Like, the brother I never had, or something.

_But what right do I have to say stuff this deep?_ I wondered as I clumsily dodged people along the crowded streets, _I've only known him for one day._

Then I stopped. I just froze, right in my tracks.

_No… this cannot be happening. I know I didn't really pay attention yesterday, but still! Dear God, please help me…_

"I'm lost." I breathed, my words dropping under the weight of my horror.

_Aw, poop._

**!~!~!**

After wandering around for another ten minutes or so, I finally saw the ever-so-familiar face of Kid Blink through the window of some diner. I briefly glanced at the sign – _Tibby's_ – before passing through the door and making a beeline for the booth my Newsie partner was sitting at. Well, not really my Newsie partner, but I wasn't really sure what to classify him as at the time. I mean, I wouldn't mind being his friend, but he seemed too cool for a dorky girl like me, right? At least, that's the vibe I got… along with that 'big-brother' thing, too. Gosh, he's confusing me, and I hardly know him!

"Erms, hi," I stated awkwardly, fidgeting as I stood at the head of the table. Kid Blink and an unnamed Newsie who sat across from him cut off their conversation, turning their heads to look up at me. I felt my face grow hot, and my adverted my gaze to the ever-so-interesting bottle of mustard.

"Hey, 'Tina," I glanced over to see Kid Blink grinning toothily at me, patting the space beside him. "Here, why do't ya have a seat?"

"Um, thanks," I squeaked, my voice soft despite me wanting to yell the words from the rooftop. I scurried into the vacant seat, curiously eyeing the Newsie across the table. He shot me a quick smile before turning back to Blink.

"Yeah, so den she actually took it off-" his story was promptly cut off when Kid Blink lurched forward, reaching across the table and shoving him back against the seat.

"Geez, Fritz! Not in front of da lady! Has youse no shame?" he let out an exasperated sigh and leaned back, turning to face me with an apologetic smile. "Sorry dere, 'Tina. Fritz has some interestin' tales of love, but I doubt you'd like 'em very much."

I felt the blood rush to my cheeks once again. "Oh, n-no, that's fine! I mean, I'm not particularly interested, but I don't want to intrude…" I trailed off, letting out a weak little laugh in a lame attempt to hide my embarrassment. Blink just chuckled good-naturedly and turned back to his skimpy sandwich.

"So, youse finally get up?" He asked, carefully talking around his mouthful of food. I let out a small giggle and nodded. Fritz smirked.

"Yeah, youse gave us all a big ol' scare, what with yer blood type bein' AB and all."

I stared blankly. "Why, because it's the same as Kyouya and Honey-senpai's?"

"Wha?"

"N-never mind." I rushed on quickly. "Seriously, though, why's my blood type scary to you guys? You seem pretty tough to me."

Fritz opened his mouth to speak, but then stared past me and set his jaw.

"'Cause of dat guy." He glowered darkly. I twisted my torso around to follow his gaze, and saw a rather good-looking young man sauntering in through the door, a taller man with a mustache close behind. The entire shop seemed to hush down a little – at least the Newsie part of the population.

"Who are they?" I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away. Kid Blink let out a low growl.

"Oscar an' Morris Delancy. Two hoity-toity thugs who tink they're so much bettah den us Newsies jus' 'cause their uncle's got a little powah."

I nodded slowly, unsure on how else to reply. Suddenly, the eyes of Oscar zeroed-in on our table, and he gave Morris a little nudge before swaggering over, looming over us like they were tyrant kings or something.

"Heya, street scum," Oscar sneered, swiping at the contents of the table. Bottles and glasses went flying, landing with loud crashes upon the diner floor. Now the joint was _completely_ silent, and I noticed a few people inching warily towards the door. Morris let out a low chuckle.

Then Oscar's gaze turned towards me, and a slow, greasy grin spread across his face.

"Well, looky here," he shifted closer to me, completely blocking my only escape from the booth; "I nevah thought I'd see a goil desperate enough tah hang out with da Newsies."

I felt my face grow hot – for the third time in the past fifteen minutes – as the panic began to rise from the pit of my stomach, and adrenaline started pumping through my veins.

I let out a strangled squeak and slid under the table.

"Y-yeah, I'll just be under here if anybody needs me." I called. Then, out of random impulse, I reached out and grasped the leg of Kid Blink's britches, or whatever they're called. I felt him begin to move away, but then thought differently and just tensed up a little.

So there I crouched, my eyes screwed tightly shut, and my breath deep and ragged as I prayed silently for it to be over. The conversation continued above me, but I wasn't really paying attention to the words. Then, _finally_, God answered and sent a round man out from the back kitchen to shoo the two of them away. Oscar slammed his fist against the table in one last act of defiance, which caused me to jump, before storming out of the diner. I let out a little breath of relief and let go of Kid Blink's pants leg, then wiggled my way back to the surface world, twisting and turning awkwardly as I attempted to get back into my seat. By the time I was done, both Fritz and Kid Blink were beside themselves with laughter.

"What?" I mumbled, feeling uncomfortable.

Fritz stuck his tongue out. "Y-you just… just went under da table an'…" he doubled over the table, his words drowned out by his and Blink's laughter. Kid Blink just shook his head and continued to laugh, giving me a gentle pat on the back; which, by the way, was of little comfort.

"Real smooth, 'Tina," Fritz was finally able to choke out. Blink was now laughing so hard it was completely silent, save the occasional sound of him gasping for a breath.

Feeling a little hurt, but unable to deny the suddenly-light atmosphere, I gave a short giggle and nodded.

"Just call me the 'Natural Rookie'!" I declared, shooting a 'thumbs up' into the air. Fritz – Kid Blink was no longer even paying attention to me – halted his laughter, looking over at me with confusion.

"What?" He asked. I let out a melodramatic sigh.

"Oh, come _on_!" I wailed; "What's the point of making anime references if nobody understands them?"

Fritz shrugged. "Uh, sorry."

**!~!~!**

Fritz left soon after the incident, and Kid Blink took me out with him for the afternoon addition. He even let me attempt to sell a few of his papers, but took them back when it was pretty clear I wasn't really helping.

"I just don't know what to say," I choked out, feeling embarrassed and useless. Kid Blink just gave me a pat on the shoulder – from which, again, I found no comfort – and returned to his selling corner. I watched him go, the harsh wind stinging my eyes, before trudging over to a nearby bench and slumping into it.

Why couldn't I do something? I wanted so desperately to fit in with the Newsies, but that seemed impossible unless I found some wonderful skill. I would be able to pay my keep at the lodging house for quite a while, with my ten-dollar bill, but I didn't want to live someplace where nobody liked me. And, aside from Kid Blink, everybody else was probably just interested because I was new. It was like at my school, when a new girl or boy came. They would be the center of everyone's attention for a day or two, but soon enough the excitement would fade, and they would meld into a group of friends. Unfortunately for me, there was only one group here, and I couldn't seem to wheedle my way in.

Sure enough, as Blink and I were walking back to the lodging house, the only Newsies who bothered to join us were Boots and Racetrack – my exotic exterior was gone. Already I was just another one of the crowd. Nonetheless, I couldn't help but feel a tiny glimmer of hope as Kid Blink joked, Boots bragged about how many 'papes' he had sold, and Racetrack made a bet on everything we said.

_Maybe I can fit in here… maybe I can find some way to prove myself and earn their friendship. Perhaps not today, but tomorrow. Or the day after that. Or-_

My thoughts were interrupted by a piercing screech. An oh-so-familiar, heart-wrenching screech.

The three Newsies exchanged a confused glance, but I had a pretty good idea on who it was.

_It can't be…_

We rounded the corner to see the two men from earlier – Oscar and Morris, I think – closing in a girl. Morris grabbed her wrist, but she pulled free.

"Don't touch me," she said, taking a step back only to run into Oscar. He laughed this vicious, gross laugh and wrapped an arm around her neck.

"Keep quiet, sweetheart, and everything will be fine," he said in a low voice. Just to defy him, the girl let out an ear-splitting shriek, which caused my heart to leap into my throat.

"Emilee!"

Emilee's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "Christina?" She asked in disbelief. I stumbled forward, but Blink was faster, racing past me and throwing himself at Morris with a nasty left-hook. Racetrack grabbed my arm, looking distressed.

"Look, 'Tina!" He shouted, pointing animatedly; "We'se gotta go help da lady wit da pretty legs!"

Emilee's face turned beet-red, and she tugged on her mini shorts self-consciously. Oscar let out a growl and pulled her farther back, shadows encasing them.

"Go, Racetrack!" I cried, shaking him off. "Go!"

Race dashed after them, prying my friend away from her offender. Then she tumbled forward, landing messily on her hands and knees. I rushed forward, falling to her side.

"Emilee!" I whimpered, enveloping her in a huge hug. "Oh, Emilee!"

Emilee returned my hug readily, burying her face into my shoulder. I was crying now, happy to see my best friend (now I wasn't alone!), but scared stiff by the most recent event.

"This is so horribly cliché," Emilee murmured, her voice cracking as she tightened her grip on my dress. I let out a mixed sob-laugh and nodded. "Like something off of FanFiction."

"I'm so glad you're okay," I sniffled, pulling away from the hug and wiping my nose on my sleeve. "How'd you get here?"

Emilee let out a shaky breath, but we were both distracted as Racetrack threw Oscar over our heads, panting like some wild beast.

"And do't come back!" He yelled as the two brothers scrambled away. Boots – who had been helping Blink with Morris – came over and poked Emilee in the cheek.

"You real?" he asked. Emilee rubbed her cheek and shrugged.

"We'se better get back," Kid Blink said, glancing up at the sky. "It's gettin' dark."

I helped Emilee to her feet, the boys leading us in silence back to the lodging house. Emilee was the center of attention the minute we walked in the door.

"Anothah one?" Snipeshooter shook his head, arms crossed in obvious disapproval across his chest. Racetrack shoved him head-first to the ground, scowling.

"Shut up," he growled in a warning tone.

"Wait!" Jack declared, causing everyone to fall instantly silent. "Dis is Emilee Milner! Brooklyn told us 'bout her!"

"She's 'Tina friend," Specs affirmed, nodding.

"_Best_ friend," I corrected, grabbing hold of Emilee's hand and gripping it tightly. "Can she stay here?"

Jack grinned broadly. "'Course she can, 'Tina!" He said, and led the both of us up the stairs. "Lucky foah youse, Miss Emilee, wese got one moah empty bunk."

"Can she sleep above me?" I wasn't sure what the answer was going to be, but felt the need to be as close as possible to my only connection to home.

Jack shot me a glance, and I was so sure he was going to refuse, but instead he just nodded and said, "Yeah, dat sounds fine."

So, we showed Emilee her bunk and I gave her my pajama pants to wear since she seemed so uncomfortable around the Newsies in her short-shorts (she normally just wore them in the safety of her own home, but never in public). Then Jack left us, returning downstairs to be with his friends. This left Emilee and I alone. We sat on the floor, Emilee brushing through her tangled hair and I hugging my pillow to my chest.

"So," I said after a moment of silence, "how'd you get here?"

Emilee paused, her head tilted as she ran my dad's brush through her hair. She winced at a particularly nasty snarl and, after tugging it free, replied.

"I dunno."

I let out a little sigh. _Great._

But then she continued: "I was waiting for you to come over, and then I thought, 'hey, Christina might like some ramen!' So, I went into the kitchen and started to make it. Then, I was like, getting closer and closer to the pot, and then I was spinning and spinning and spinning-" to this she twirled the brush in a circle through the air; "- and then I blinked, and I was here! I was just regaining my bearings when those two guys came and…" she trailed off, averting her gaze to the floor and returning to brushing her hair in silence.

I shifted awkwardly. "I'm glad you're okay," I finally said, quietly.

"Yeah," Emilee agreed in a small voice.

"Em-aaah-_leee_!" Racetrack cried, thundering up the stairs and throwing himself at the girl. Emilee stopped brushing, and watched emotionlessly as the boy went flying past her, arms outstretched as he slammed into the wall. The band of Newsies who had followed him froze at the top of the steps, bumping into each other as they took in the scene.

Then, someone shouted, "He missed!" and a roar of wild cheers erupted.

"Nobody touches Emilee!" Tumbler declared, and the older boys yelled their agreements. Race groaned and sat up, rubbing his head.

"What's wrong wit huggin' a pretty lady, huh?" He grumbled, standing. Emilee looked up at him, a smile twitching on the corners of her lips.

"It's Racetrack…" she murmured, looking somewhat dazed. I blinked.

"Uh, yeah, it's Racetrack," I said; "What about him?"

Emilee turned her gaze back to me. "Oh, nothing. I really can't believe you forgot, Christina."

_Not this again,_ I groaned and stood up, crawling into my bed. "Goodnight, Emilee. I'll see you to-"

"Wait!" Kid Blink leapt out of the crowd, striding over to my bedside. He bent down and I rolled over, squinting at him, suddenly exhausted.

"What?" I asked, feeling my heart skip and speed at his closeness. Seriously, I'm such a nerd – getting all worked-up and nervous over some random guy being close. Well, Blink wasn't really _random_, but still. He didn't mean anything special (or so I kept telling myself).

"Jack, Boots an' I are goin' tah visit Brooklyn tomorrow," he told me, looking unusually serious. "Youse wanna come?"

"What time are you leaving?" I asked, my eyelids drooping.

"After the morning addition," he said.

"Okay," I mumbled, yawning and turning my back to him. "Wake me up when it's time to go."

Kid Blink laughed. "Okay, 'Tina." Then he was gone.

_Tomorrow… tomorrow is when I'll finally meet this Brooklyn person. And maybe Emilee will finally tell me what I forgot, too._

**!~!~!**

**The end! Hope you guys enjoyed it, and sorry for the delay. :)**

**Thanks for all the great comments and support, guys! I really appreciate it! And sorry that I'm not doing shout-outs this time – I'm just really tired, like I said. Its 1:26 and tomorrow's church, although my throat is killing me and I'm not sure all go. Ah, well. Maybe next week!**

**Next chapter we'll finally meet Spot, and get a chunk of POV from him, too! It's about time we figured out what's up with him…**

**Love you guys! :D**

**~ Christina Conlon**


	7. Didn't See That Coming

**Okay, this story's update schedule has officially gone to hell. BUT, I am still updating nonetheless, and hopefully my readers have not yet completely abandoned me. TT_TT**

**But I digress, so here is the next chapter. We finally regroup with Spottikins, yay! *dances***

**P.S, I have no idea what a trolley is like. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer: I will never own Newsies. *sadness***

**!~!~!**

**Chapter 5 – Didn't See That Coming**

_Christina/Spot_

"Sooo," I drawled, tilting my head to shoot Jack a sideways glance, "can I assume that since we are visiting this 'Brooklyn', said person can be found in Brooklyn?"

"Yep," the wannabe-cowboy replied, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

"And how long will it take for us to get there?"

"Two houahs by foot."

"Wh-what!" I spluttered, stopping dead in my tracks. "I can't walk that far! I can't even walk three laps around the school _gym_ without running out of breath. I should just turn back now and-"

Jack grabbed the back of my dress and quirked an eyebrow. "'Ey, 'ey, 'ey. Now jus' a minute, Miss 'Tina. I said two houahs by _foot_. But it's only half an houah-" he reached out into the road with his free hand, and suddenly we were swept away by an unseen force, "-by trolley."

I let out a shriek as my skirt whipped out the door and flapped viciously in the wind, using one hand to clutch Jack's arm and the other in a desperate attempt to tame my clothing.

"This is crazy, Jack!" I shouted over the wind, spitting at my hair as it flew into my face; "And dangerous, too! Did we even pay for this?"

Jack just laughed and closed the door.

"We're pickin' Blink and Boots up at their sellin' spots," he explained, leaning back to give me more room. I huffed, furiously combing my hair back into place with my twiggy fingers. It had been messy enough already, what with me waking up thirty seconds before we had to go and all, but now the wind had knotted it into one big pile atop my head.

"Ah," Jack breathed, breaking into my thoughts as he peered out the trolley's window, "there's Blink."

"No, not yet!" I wailed as he grasped the door handle. "My hair isn't fixed yet!"

Jack shot me a skeptical look and threw open the door. Kid Blink basically appeared from nowhere half a second later, grinning with this wild gleam in his eye.

"Man, I haven't done that in- woah." He doubled back, nearly falling out of the doorway when he caught sight of my hair.

"I warned you, Jack," I grumbled self-consciously, turning away to hide my reddening cheeks; "There are some things people just shouldn't have to suffer through."

I notice the two newsboys exchange a shrug out of the corner of my eye, but then Boots had arrived and the three were talking about their selling days. I finished doing what I could with my hair – which really wasn't much – and scooted in between Boots and Blink to listen in on the reports.

"I sold a lot to old ladies today, it seemed," Boots was saying with an odd look on his face. "It was kinda creepy."

I frowned, but didn't comment.

"I sold fifty, as usual," Jack boated, puffing out his chest. Blink rolled his eye and whacked his cowboy hat backwards.

"How 'bout youse, 'Tina?" he asked, turning to me.

"Huh?" I love to sound intelligent.

"Is Emilee settlin' in alright?"

"Oh, yeah," I blinked. "Sure, I guess. She's spending the day with Racetack; he said he'd show her around."

"Good ol' Race," Jack mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I might've known."

Kid Blink nodded in sage agreement. "It was pretty obvious 'e liked 'er from da start."

Boots, not wanting to be left out – but looking quite clueless – gave a murmur of agreement. I looked from one newsie to the other.

"Huh?" Again with the intelligent grunts. "You really think so?"

Kid Blink grinned and elbowed my in the ribs. "What, 'Tina, you do't believe in true love at first sight?"

"No," I deadpanned. He gave a goofy little snort and turned away.

"Well, Ise do," declared Jack, pounding his chest a couple times with his fist. "An' 'Tina, I think youse'll experience it foah youseself today."

I smoothed out my skirt and refused to look Blink in the eye. "Um, yeah, sure. Whatever you say."

**!~!~!**

"Spot… Spot, wake up!"

I groaned and waved irritably at the annoying, unseen creature buzzing in my ear. The back of my hand met someone's face, and with a squeak, the creature went flying back, hitting the wall with a dull thud.

I let out a loud sigh and rolled over, blinking blearily. Berry stood up, wiping the flecks of blood away from his mouth.

"Whatchu want?" I muttered darkly, too tired to feel sympathetic – not that I did in a good mood, either. Berry shot me a wide-eyed look and ebbed toward the door.

"T-Twig jus' said to get ready foah Manhattan visitors," he stammered in an unusually high voice, before opening the door and fleeing into the hallway. I muttered profanities about the sun and buried my face in my pillow. I laid like that for a while, eyes screwed tightly shut, before sighing again and sitting up. I pulled on my pants and snapped my suspenders into place. Unable to fit my feet into my shoes, I kicked them angrily across the room, my four-letter words now aimed at them. Then I stood abruptly, storming out of my room and down into the main lobby, slamming every door, window, and face I could along the way. Twig stood at the bottom of the stairs, talking to two of the younger newsies with his back turned away from me.

"'Ey," I croaked, my lack of sleep evident in my voice. Twig turned around and looked me over.

"Awright, Spot," he said, his blonde curls bouncing as he nodded, that sickening, ever-present smile plastered onto his face; "Glad you could make it."

I glowered down at the frightened boys behind him. "Who're they?"

Twig followed my gaze. "Oh, these two? They're your two newest underlings. They're River's little brothers – Leaf, who's eleven, and Pebble, who's nine."

I let out an exhausted moan and rubbed my face with one hand. "Why are all my newsies named after nature?"

Twig shrugged. "Who knows? Anyways, River asked if I could find people to train them, since he can't take them both, obviously. So, I said you and I could handle it, no problem!"

I shot him a withering look, but as usual Twig didn't even flinch; one of the many reasons he had been assigned as my second – and why he still maintained the position. I tried to break him for a moment longer, but soon grew tired and instead grabbed the shorter one by the collar. "Fine. I'm leavin' now."

Twig waved cheerfully, and the other boy did the same, though more hesitantly.

"Where're we goin', Mistah Spot?" the little boy asked brightly. "Can we go see da horses?"

"No."

"Can we go see da boats?"

"No."

"Can we go see da-"

I whipped around, lifted the kid into the air, and pulled back my fist.

"Now listen here, Puddle," I hissed. "I ain't got time to be a babysittah. Now you follow me, or you follow this boardwalk into da water. We clear?"

The boy gave a small nod, eyes wide and innocent. I let out a growl and dropped him onto the ground.

"Oh, and Mistah Spot?"

"What?"

"It's Pebble."

**!~!~!**

I let out a breath of awe, eyes wide as I took in the sight before me. Water, as far as the eye could see. Crates, nets, even fish lined the sides of our path. It smelled of sea, one of my favorite smells. Even the fishy air seemed pleasant to me – I'd always been fond of seafood. Boys littered the docks, leaping into the water and climbing back out, shouting and laughing and wrestling and diving. A few of the taller, more muscular ones stopped to watch us, somewhat warily, as we passed, but most of them just let us go like it was no big deal. I searched the crowds of Brooklyn newsies, eager to see if I could guess which one was 'Brooklyn'. To be honest, I was actually kind of looking for a girl, but there appeared to be no females in sight. I absently wondered if I was the only girl newsie in all of New York.

Jack, who was on one side of me, took the lead, with Blink on my right flank and Boots taking up the rear. A tall, shirtless, wet boy was shoved into me suddenly, and I let out a squeak, stumbling back into Blink.

"Woah, now," he said, catching me under the arms. The heat instantly rushed to my cheeks, and I half-heartedly struggled to regain my footing. Jack looked over his shoulder, his eyes oddly cold and serious.

"Careful, Blink," he said in a voice that sent chills up and down my spine, "you ain't in Manhattan no more."

Blink's grip faltered, and I reluctantly pulled away, fiddling with my hair and dress awkwardly.

"Uh, thanks," I said in a tiny voice. Kid Blink mumbled an incoherent reply and continued on to follow Jack down the boardwalk. I glanced behind me at Boots, who was poking a dead fish with a piece of driftwood. I called for him to catch up, and after he had rejoined me at my side, the four of us walked in complete and utter silence.

Suddenly, Brooklyn didn't seem like such a wonderful place anymore. It felt much, much colder.

**!~!~!**

"Take that, you scurvy seadog!"

I peered out from under my cabby cap, which I had been using to shade my face, and found a wooden sword inches away from my nose. Pebble's eyes were wide with glee as he waited for me to react. I sat up from where I had been snoozing in the crate, swiped the toy from him with one hand, and snapped it in two over my knee. Then I tossed the pieces into the water and pulled my hat back over my face. I heard Pebble's undeterred footsteps fade into the distance, followed by a splash. I yawned and settled more comfortably into my crate; whether or not he could swim wasn't a concern to me. There were enough older boys to help him if he had any trouble.

"'Ey Spot, you got a second?"

"No," I grumbled, burying my chin in my chest.

"But Spot," came the voice again, somewhat urgently; "the Manhattan boys are here."

I paused, contemplating whether or not this information was worth getting up for, before finally letting out a sigh and heaving myself out of the crate. I turned to face the birdie, a tall but lithe boy named Rooftop, due to his uncanny ability to leap from one roof to the next, swift and unseen. His sky-blue eyes gleamed under the shadow of his cap, and his curly black hair sprung out from under its confines. He wore mostly dark clothing, and, like me, looked tired and irritated. But Rooftop was a nocturnal fellow, alive at night and sawing logs during the day, whereas I was just having trouble sleeping.

"Aiight," I conceded, patting him on the shoulder as I walked by, "I'll go see 'em. Youse go find a bed and stay there 'til evenin'."

Rooftop gave a curt nod and walked away, back towards the lodging house.

It took me only five minutes to find the 'Hattaners; they were in a small cluster near the west docks, several of my muscle men subtly keeping watch on their every move.

I stopped a few feet away, waiting for them to come to me.

"Well, well, Jacky Boy. Glad you could make it."

The group disbanded at the sound of my voice, hurrying to form a ragged line. Jack, Kid Blink, Boots, and…

My eyes widened, and my jaw dropped.

"T-'Tina…" I breathed. She didn't appear to hear me, but was instead looking around the docks with guardedly curious eyes.

"'Tina!" I called, a purely joyous smile spreading across my eyes. What was she doing here? Did she die too? When had she arrived? Why the heck hadn't anyone told me sooner?

A slew of questions flew through my mind, a mile a minute. I opened my arms wide, the sun blinding me as I called her name again. Any second now she would let out a shriek of excitement, rush into my arms and hug me like there was no tomorrow. And I would return the embrace, pulling her close and stroking her hair. We would be together, happy… so happy…

Christina tilted her head and stared at me with a blank expression. "Um, do I know you?"

My smile vanished. I dropped my arms to the side. _It's a joke… it has to be a joke…_

So I stared back, waiting for her to giggle, flap her arms, and assure me that she was only kidding, and she was glad to see me.

But she didn't. She just stood there, looking at me with clueless brown eyes. I felt my heart plummet into the deepest depths my stomach.

_Well, didn't see that coming._

**!~!~!**

**This chapter is so messy I don't even know what to say. I am ashamed to post it (and yet here it is).**

**Please review, even though it's crap! Hopefully the next one will be better…?**

**:/**

**~ Christina Conlon**


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